


Dreamless

by Esselle



Series: Incubass [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Biting, Consensual Sex, Emotional Sex, Happy Ending, Language Barrier, M/M, Mild Blood, Non-Human Hinata, Nonverbal Communication, POV Nonhuman, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Scratching, Somnophilia, Succubi & Incubi, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 00:31:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7955074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esselle/pseuds/Esselle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Kageyama is relatively sure that the creature in his bed isn't human, but he doesn't know what it <i>is,</i> either. But this is not why he suspects he's dreaming.</p><p>He thinks he must be dreaming because the <i>thing</i>, whatever it is, is impossibly, breathtakingly beautiful. The little arched eyebrows and upturned nose and small, pouty smile on its face have his breath coming short; and the way it's <i>looking</i> at him, like it's thinking about devouring him whole, makes him want to run and hide, or drift closer and let it happen, he isn't sure which. </p><p>Even without any previous experience, Kageyama knows what it wants. But no one has ever, ever wanted that from him before.'</p><p>--</p><p>A boy and a demon may know very little about each other, upon first meeting. But what they can't say in words, they make up for with sound and light and touch; and maybe, they learn by taking each other apart, before they piece one another back together again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreamless

**Author's Note:**

> :) This fic, which has now been a little over a month in the making, was written in collaboration with reallycorking for her [30 Days NSFW Challenge](http://reallyporning.tumblr.com/tagged/30-days-nsfw-challenge)! The prompt is #27: rough/biting/scratch. The second she said the word "incubus", I was 200% Involved, and I owe her a _ton_ of thanks for being so willing to work through this whole mad storyline, as things got _slightly_ out of hand... 
> 
> For instance, _lube spit._ I tried to make it as clear as possible that incubus-sex-demon spit in this fic acts as an appropriately slick lubricant without completely tanking the mood, but to be on the safe side, I'm informing you, dear reader, in these notes. There will also be **NSFW images** embedded within the work itself. Please be aware if you're reading where others can see :D
> 
>  **Lastly, and importantly:** incubi are most classically though of as (male) demons that appear to people in their sleep/dreams and engage in sexual activity with them. **All sexual activity in this fic is consensual** \- but there is forgetfulness involved, and some element of dreaming vs reality, real vs imagined, and I want people to be aware, in case anyone is sensitive to these themes.

#  ******dream**

Kageyama Tobio is very tired.

It's a weariness—one that drags at him throughout the day, at all hours, even when he's just woken up. Maybe it's not so much weariness—maybe it's just the state of being awake. Because sleep brings at least a few dull, unconscious hours. Waking up means being aware.

He is a freshman in college. It has been some months now in his new routine, and things have settled. He wakes up, in his small futon, in his tiny apartment, that he shares with no one. He goes to morning volleyball practice for his prestigious college team, where he does very well, and is liked by the coaching staff, sharing his victories and moments of achievement with no one. He goes to his classes, and eats lunch with no one. No one sits and struggles over math homework with him. No one walks home with him after practice.

He is quiet and serious-faced and listens well in practice, but his oddities and stilted awkwardness do not do him any favors as far as making friends with his classmates. His blinding talent and innate skill, his quickness to learn, do not help him make any friends with his seniors.

And this is not Karasuno, the warm and loving family he felt most at home with, though he was still always the odd man out, always the one half without a partner, unlike the rest of them. In the end, though, they had been his friends.

But this isn't high school. This is what people told him the real world would be, with endless competition, with jealous eyes on him, surrounded by players that aren't looking for a family, or even a Team, but a stage. And as the spotlight shines brighter and brighter on him, they begin to whisper in the shadows.

So Kageyama goes back to having no one, which is difficult, after Karasuno; but he's been here before, and he handles it better, now. He's learned not to yell, even when the frustration simmers in his gut. He just perfects his tosses, his serves, his receives. He makes himself untouchable. Invincible.

And the world stays away from him.

But it's hard, to have no one else supporting him, and so he becomes tired.

He looks forward to his home, and his bed, and sleep that is dreamless.

—

_When the humans dream, they flare brightest._

_In the dark of night, Hinata winds his way through the rivers of color, floating through the dream strands, letting them scrape over his skin. He has so much to choose from, and yet nothing catches his attention, whets his appetite._

_Sometimes he drifts for years, decades, centuries. Other times, he indulges himself fully and finds another burst of brilliance in just a day's time. He never starves. He only eats when he is hungry, and he is only hungry when he is interested. He is not hungry yet._

_He never knows exactly how much time passes. He only marks the nights he spends tasting the bodies and minds set out before him, until each one, to his sadness, grows dim. And even then, he mourns, but in time, he forgets._

_He thinks it has been a long time since he had someone._

_But then, he feels it. Something he's never felt before._

_A mind that shines, even though it does not dream._

_Hinata follows this current, dropping below the surface, until the other noise fades out and it's just him and this one thread. He loops around it, playful, can't help but smile as he twines himself around it, or it around himself. It's a simple thread, because it weaves no dream, but it's_ bright.

_It belongs to a boy, in a room, in bedding on the floor. He doesn't wake when Hinata appears inside his world._

_Hinata wonders what he wants to dream about. He must_ want _to or else the thread wouldn't be so bright. He alights on the bed, moving closer. Sniffs the air._

_The boy is still new. Untouched._

_Hinata wants so badly to touch him._

_But first, he waits._

_Not for long. The boy begins to stir, and the thread dims, and his eyelids flutter. Hinata can't help the small, pleased trill that escapes him, as he glimpses the deep blue of his eyes, the sleep dazed expression on his face._

_The boy blinks, and sees him._

_They watch at each other. Then the boy sits up onto his elbows, eyes widening._

_And Hinata becomes_ interested. _He wants to discover this boy._

_No human, not in all the time he has enjoyed his fill of their kind, has ever looked at him like this before._

_—_

Kageyama's eyes are open, but he must still be dreaming.

There is a monster in his bed.

The creature, whatever it is, doesn't speak. It sits crouched on his legs, staring at him unblinkingly, head tilted slightly to the side. For a long while, that is all they do—just stare, at each other.

Kageyama rubs his eyes with his fist. He doesn't _think_ he's awake. It would make sense, for him to be asleep, rather than awake and lying in bed with… whatever this thing is.

It looks like a boy about his age, but also not like a boy at all. It can't be human. Kageyama doesn't know what to stare at first.

It's fully naked, first of all. The parts of it that are boy-ish are slender and pale and look soft—the arms and thighs and stomach, and the light dusting of red hair that starts at its navel and leads down… and it has very _human_ equipment between its legs, impressive equipment, at that, which makes Kageyama blush and look away.

But then there are the thick, curling horns that taper into sharp points sprouting from its head, too sturdy to be fake. Large, tufted red ears, like some kind of wildcat. And what look to be small, pointy black wings, the leathery membrane currently tucked in against its back.

It wears a bell on a tight collar around its neck, and a soft, eerily hypnotic tinkling fills the room as it leans forward, crawling slowly up the length of Kageyama's body as he watches it, trepidatious and still. His eyes flicker upwards as a long, thin tail swishes into view, jet black, with the end of it tipped like an arrowhead, small and sharp. It moves on its own, like an extra limb.

All these things are very much not human, but then there are the real signs—the hair, already the color of a candle flame, curls into tendrils of actual fire, smoke wisping off the tips. And the creature's eyes are true fire, too—feline and red-orange. But they evoke less of a blaze and more the burning smoulder of embers as they strike through ash.

Kageyama is relatively sure that it isn't human, but he doesn't know what it _is,_ either (some sort of demon, would be his best guess). But this is not why he suspects he's dreaming.

He thinks he must be dreaming because the _thing,_ whatever it is, is impossibly, breathtakingly beautiful. The little arched eyebrows and upturned nose and small, pouty smile on its face have his breath coming short; and the way it's _looking_ at him, like it's thinking about devouring him whole, makes him want to run and hide, or drift closer and let it happen, he isn't sure which.

Even without any previous experience, Kageyama knows what it wants. But no one has ever, ever wanted that from him before.

He settles for asking it a question.

"You're not, um, real? Right?"

The demon's wings flutter just a little as it pulls back from where it's been slowly approaching him. A sound fills the whole room, a clear, bell-tone whistle that at first seems to come from everywhere at once, and Kageyama looks around himself, startled, before he realizes where it's originating from. The creature cocks his head at him, ears flicking, as it makes the bell sound again.

"Can you talk?" he asks. "Do you… speak? Japanese?"

The creature blinks at him before diving toward him, and he startles, but then there is a soft, tickling warmth under his chin and against his cheeks. Kageyama feels his face growing hot, as the creature nuzzles against him, spine curved and ass in the air, tail lazily swaying back and forth. It pulls back to look at him, cooing softly, a bird-like noise that seems to emanate outward from within it, like an instrument being played. Its nose and cheeks are pink, eyes wide and lips slightly parted as it gazes openly at him.

If Kageyama is dreaming, then he doesn't want to wake up.

"I don't know what…" he says, quietly, and when the demon boy bumps their foreheads together, he leans in reflexively. "I've never…" He's never done anything like this before, sharing breaths with another, never been so intimate with someone else. It's never seemed possible.

Does it matter, though? If none of this is real?

Hesitantly, he reaches out, to rub tentative fingertips over the creature's bare shoulder. Its skin is as soft as it looks, and suddenly, he wants to touch more, to feel its warmth against his own body. It looks at his hand, and then back at him, before it smiles, baring sharp little canines at him. As it leans in closer, closer, he closes his eyes.

The monster in his bed makes his lack of knowledge irrelevant. It shows him exactly what it wants with him, makes him feel more than he ever imagined he could.

—

_The boy is more than just new._

_He is willing to open. More than willing—he feels something deeper than just pleasure, when Hinata spreads him apart and shows him what it is to give himself over, to be had, for the very first time._

_Hinata slides his tongue over and into untouched flesh, saliva becoming slick and abundant as he becomes more and more excited, to taste the delicious boy, to be the one to have him first. The boy is larger than him, has long legs and lean, sculpted muscles, and Hinata likes how those strong thighs lock around his head to drag him in closer, as human speech Hinata doesn't understand starts to tumble from the boy's lips into a ceaseless string of pleading._

_But more than that, Hinata enjoys his nervousness, swallows it like a ghostly whisper. Uncertainty fluttering, like a fragile heartbeat, down his throat. The intoxicating burn of ecstasy on his tongue as he licks deep, before he finds the pulsing point of heat buried inside the boy with his fingers, claws carefully retracted, and feels him start to shiver with unrestrained desire. Hinata will make him feel so much. This human will be a_ feast _for him._

_When he is ready, after Hinata has licked into him long and slow and he drips wet and slick from the preparation, Hinata pulls himself up over him and takes him, fills him entirely._

_And that is when the boy shows him all he truly has to offer._

_He gives as good as he gets, to Hinata's surprise, hips grinding down and rolling even as Hinata watches him lose himself to it. And he is flowing over, with astonishment, at the feel of it, Hinata moving in him. His body shakes, made red and hot all over by the blood beneath his skin, eyes rolled back and mouth open as his arousal is expressed in moans and whimpers and words that mean nothing to Hinata, though he drinks them in all the same._

_But when the boy reaches his limit—he opens his eyes and looks straight into Hinata's, clear and aware of all that is happening to him. And that is when the snap of heat, the bliss of being joined, overtakes them both._

_And the boy feels, through the overwhelming force of his pleasure—gratitude. It surges rich and hot and sweet across Hinata's senses, and he holds tight to the boy, bruising his hips in the shape of fingers as he spills inside him._

_He pulls out as he softens, watching the change of expression in the boy's face—wide-eyed desperation fading to satisfaction, to contented exhaustion._

_Hinata winds his way up the bed, watching as the boy's eyes start to close. He turns to look at Hinata sleepily, lips move, a question, Hinata thinks, is asked. He doesn't understand what is said._

_But, almost unable to help himself, he responds, sound spilling out of him in a soft fall of chiming and whispering air. He presses his lips to the boy's ear, because he knows how to say these tones in the human speech._

"Hinata," _he tells him._

_He pulls back, to watch how the boy parts his lips, reaching a hand out to trail the tips of his fingers over Hinata's cheek. A swell of something rings up out of Hinata's chest, a wavering note of feeling and sound._

_Then the boy is asleep, and Hinata leaves him to real dreams. He will not remember anything when he wakes._

#  **touch**

Things have been weird for a couple weeks.

Kageyama wakes up in the mornings after a full night's sleep, feeling… not _sleepy,_ exactly, but definitely not fully awake.

It feels like he wakes up, but part of him resists, wants to stay under the surface, keeps him in a little bit of a fog no matter what time of the day it is or how much vending machine coffee he drinks.

That in itself is strange, but there are things that are stranger. Much, much stranger.

He starts noticing marks, on his body.

At first, he passes it off as maybe something that happened at practice, the marks easy to explain that way. Very quickly, however, they become less so, appear in places more and more inexplicable, like his shoulder blades, the insides of his elbows, the highest part of his thighs, conspicuous enough that he is careful to stop changing in the locker room when other people are around. Even more baffling are the shapes some of them take—some like scratch marks and others disconcertingly like _bites,_ half moon circles littering his skin. They're a little tender, usually, but not painful, even when they stand out on his flesh, raised and red.

(He runs his fingers over them in the shower sometimes and the fog in his head threatens to take over, until he's backed against the wall, gasping, hand pumping over his cock frantically, eyes screwed shut as he tries to remember _how_ and _why_ and _where did these come from?_ Why do they make him feel so _warm?)_

So there's the haziness, and the marks, and then there's… well, there's really no delicate way to say it.

His ass, on occasion… _hurts._

It's not all the time, but it is definitely an experience, waking up some days with a low, throbbing ache, one that makes his face heat up and his stomach twist all hot, though he doesn't know why. Other days, he wakes up and the fog in his head a little clearer (but no less present), and he's still a little sore, but it feels… actually pretty nice, like he's more relaxed.

And all of these things, combined, should maybe bother him, make him worry about what it is that he can't explain, but they don't. Because, the fact is that they all make him feel a little bit good, a little bit like he's looking forward to the next day (though maybe he's getting it wrong, and it's the night he wants to race to).

Each day he wakes up remembering nothing about what happened in the time after he fell asleep, but his head stays clouded, and his body stays marked, and he's still kind of sore, and he can't help but wonder what it is that he's forgotten.

—

It's even more weird, Kageyama thinks, to be aware of what he's forgotten, and know he's going to forget again. Things he can barely remember, or remembers not at all during the day, all come racing back to him at night, when the soft tinkling of a bell wakes him into what he is not yet convinced isn't a dream.

He knows it has something to do with the demon creature. His memories of it only surface when they are together, and there is no other way he could forget this: the boy in his lap, small, flushed body pressed up against his own; warm, sweat-slick, silky skin under his hands; the gasps and hums it makes against his lips at his touch; the soft haze of its reflective eyes as it pulls back from one of many long, lazy kisses, watching him, lips red and swollen and wet.

They're both hard, and Kageyama lets out a low groan of longing when the winged creature looks up at him from under its lashes and rolls its hips against him, hands on Kageyama's shoulders so it can hit the perfect angle, lines them up just right and slides them together. There are some nights in his memory, though a little faded and distant, where he remembers coming just like this, moving against each other, bodies flushed and sweating, the slow grind and hot glide of skin on skin. He doesn't want that, though, not yet.

He wants to see if there's anything he can do, to help himself remember.

With great effort, he gets the creature to still, murmuring at it to stop as he grasps its hips, holding it in place. It whines, panting, eyes trained downward on where it wants to rub against him and that makes it even harder not to just keep going. His stomach twists up in pleasant knots at the thought that the demon, with its knowing smile and perfect body and breathy moans, enjoys having him, wants him this much. But he's not _stopping,_ he's just taking a small break.

He takes its face in his hands, forcing it to look up at him. "Just for a _minute,_ dumbass," he tells it, and it glares and turns its head to the side and bites (softly) down on his fingers, canines poking him but not breaking the skin. "Quit it, you little monster."

He has to work hard to keep the frown on his face. He has discovered he loves when it bites him, scratches him, licks the spots afterward to soothe the reddened skin.

Kageyama knows the creature's body pretty well at this point. But that doesn't mean he _shouldn't_ touch it, shouldn't explore it, discover it just a little more—it's not human, after all. He leans in, resting their foreheads together, and the boy's breathing slows with his own. He lets his eyes close as his hands fall from its face, fingers trailing over the slim neck and nudging the little bell hanging from its collar, setting off the soft chime. The sound focuses him, his senses, makes his skin feel like it's heating and tingling where it touches the creature. He skirts them over its bare shoulders, which are soft and smooth, then down its chest, brushing lightly over its nipples.

This gets him a gasp, and the boy arches against him, suddenly. So he does it again, stroking the pads of his thumbs over the little pink nubs, eyes closed, listening as the creature's breathing grows shallow and unsteady, feeling as the legs encircling his waist tighten against him, as fingers press into his shoulders hard enough that he will bruise.

He backs off, and it slumps, trembling, against him. Then there's a soft press of lips under his chin, against his neck, his throat. He opens his eyes to see that he is being watched.

"You like that," he says quietly, leaning down, and small hands slide into his hair as the demon kisses him again, light and soft.

He mirrors it, bringing his hands up to stroke through the fiery strands of the creature's hair—the burning tips are only warm to the touch, he's learned, like the boy is showing off. The thought makes Kageyama feel almost unbearably fond.

Cautiously, he strokes one of his fingers over the top of one of the demon's large, soft ears.

This is undoubtedly one of the strangest things about it. It doesn't actually have human ears (Kageyama has checked). Instead, it has these, adorably floppy, russet red and downy soft, and tapering off at the end, a bit like a bobcat's. Kageyama has never deliberately touched them before, and when he does, the ear in question _flicks._

The creature pulls back to stare at him, and its ear keeps twitching, though it doesn't actually seem to be aware of this. Kageyama almost laughs. He reaches out again and touches both, thumbing along the edges, and they start flicking alternately, rapidly. Kageyama can't help it, he snorts.

The demon boy's eyes narrow at him and he pulls his hands back in concession. "Maybe you don't like that as much…" Or it doesn't like him laughing at it. It seems to like him touching it everywhere, as long as there is touching happening, at the least. He's teasingly called it needy more than once, even if it can't understand him. He doesn't mind it, though. It feels nice, being needed.

He goes back to carding his fingers through its hair, every once in awhile brushing against the base of its curled, black horns. The horns themselves, smooth and shiny, like polished stone, don't seem to have much sensation in them, except where they meet the creature's skull—lightly scratching his fingertips there nets him little shivers, and a soft, steady tone, a little bit like the constant drawing of a bow over violin strings.

"Turn," he says, and it tilts its head at him. He puts his hand under its thighs to lift it, helping rearrange it until it's how he wants, on its knees with its back to him. His hand comes away wet, and he almost forgets his current mission, wants to slide his fingers between its legs and against its wet opening. He's noticed that it gets slick there, after they've started, for the same reason he assumes it always licks so deep inside him if it's going to enter him. But he isn't sure he would know what to do if their positions were reversed and he was on top. So for now, he doesn't stop, keeps discovering.

It's… very difficult not to get distracted again, with the little demon in that position, sitting on its feet, back arched as it turns its head to look at him. The long black tail waves from side to side, a movement that seems almost curious, as it tries to survey him.

Kageyama slides closer, keeping the creature between his legs, close enough that he can feel the heat off its body. He skates his hand over the demon's ass and it tilts its head back on its neck to look at him. He catches its eye and they both smile, his own small and a little embarrassed, and the creature faces forward again, as if to say, _keep going._

Carefully, he presses his palm, still slick with the demon's wetness, flat against the base of its smooth black tail, drawing his hand up it firmly. The demon lets its head hang forward, and then Kageyama feels an answering pressure gliding across his palm as it slides its tail downward against his hand while he strokes it. It's warm against his skin, a soft, leathery texture, the sinuous muscle supple and strong. He watches, fascinated, as the creature coils it around his hand in circles, slips it easily between his long fingers, slides it over his knuckles.

When he looks up, he realizes the demon is staring, too. It looks over its shoulder with its cheeks flushed bright red and bottom lip caught between its teeth, as it rubs its tail slowly against the skin between his thumb and forefinger. Its breath hitches and Kageyama glances down.

"Hey," he admonishes, and it rolls its eyes up to look at him, normally slitted pupils blown wide and black, breath puffing through parted lips as it trails its fingers softly over its leaking, pink cock. He pulls its hand off. "Cut it out."

It whines, tail uncurling from his wrist to go limp against the bed. Kageyama is fairly sure this means it's pouting. He feels bad, but there is just one more thing he wants to try—then the creature is free to have him, however it wants.

"Turn," he says again, poking gently at the creature's cheek until it reluctantly does as he asks. He puts his hands flat on its back, pushing his palms slowly up over its hot, sweat damp skin.

He's not expecting the boy to lean back into his touch, head tipping back, eyes closed and mouth open in silent rapture. He hadn't realized how badly the demon needed more, but now it's becoming clear—and it's dizzying for Kageyama, watching the level of ecstasy he can bring it to, just from that small amount of contact, and then—

And then Kageyama touches its wings.

The creature goes suddenly, absolutely still and he freezes immediately. One ear flicks again, once, and then it doesn't move. He pulls his hands back slowly, not wanting to agitate it.

But then it glances back at him, holds his gaze, its eyes a hazy, soft burning fire. And its wings, usually furled close against its back, open for him.

Kageyama catches his breath as he sees them fully for the first time. They are small and black, but the membrane between the joints is much thinner than he realized, and the light of the moon shines faintly through it. He can see the faint tracings of veins, webbing under the skin.

Kageyama touches his fingertips to the taut surface of the wings, which are a little leathery, like its tail, but smoother. He follows the patterns beneath the skin, trailing over the top where they attach to the bone, and the creature sucks in a gasp, wings stretching and shivering—dancing, almost, to the sweet sounds of the high, fluted whistles that pipe out of the demon's little body. Kageyama does not think this means to stop. Somehow, he thinks he understands this, understands the sounds that ask for  _more, more._

"You… _really_ like that," he breathes, knowing he's right.

He trails one hand softly down over its side to rest on its hip. The other he keeps on the demon's back, on its wings, swiping his palm over them in slow, firm strokes as the creature shudders, full body trembling, hands twisting in the sheets. Kageyama leans in, kisses the back of its neck, before blowing warm breath on its thin, quivering wings.

He receives a low moan in response—throbbing, and ragged, and _desperate_ for him.

And he thinks he is done discovering, for the time being.

—

_Hinata is caught off guard by the speed with which the boy goes from cautious, to dominating. He pulls Hinata against him, back to his chest, fingers on his chin to tilt his face back until they are looking at each other. He says something, before he leans down and presses his lips to Hinata's, and Hinata reaches up and back, winds his fingers into the boy's dark hair, moans again in sheer delight as large hands stroke down his chest, before the boy slides one hand underneath him and enters him with two fingers as they kiss each other hungrily._

_Hinata loses track of time in that instant. The lights and the sensations he can taste overwhelm him at having the boy inside him. He already feels so good against Hinata, so perfect, just like that, and Hinata nearly can't stand it when he pulls back, just enough to give him space to duck his head, trailing his lips over the edge of one wing._

_Hinata cries out, unfurling his wings fully, and the boy slides one hand up to his chest to hold him there as he keeps lavishing attention all over them with his lips and tongue, his other hand with his fingers pushed in deep, thrusting slowly. Hinata squirms and whimpers, cock twitching and leaking against his stomach, and the boy_ bites _him, teeth grazing against the smooth surface of his fluttering wing, and Hinata can't take anymore._

_He turns and just has time to catch sight of widening blue eyes, before he has one small hand around the boy's throat, pushing him onto his back as he crawls on top of him, eyes molten and dangerous._

_The boy chokes on a gasp when Hinata teases his cock, brushing against him, slick and ready. He's never done this, Hinata knows, has never been inside someone before, so Hinata loosens his hold on his throat, wanting to drink in the sounds he makes the first time he enters someone. The boy sobs out a honeyed, broken moan as Hinata lowers his hips, sinking down on him slowly until he bottoms out, their skin flush together. Hinata outstretches his wings to their farthest point, tipping his head back and sighing as he adjusts._

_Once he does, he raises himself up on his knees until he can almost feel that thick cock slip out, before dropping himself back down, breath snapping from his lungs as he takes the entire length of him back in, begins to ride him hard. He starts to shiver with how hot the boy is in him, how full it makes him feel._

_And then the boy raises his knees, plants his feet, and rolls his hips up hard, and Hinata sees nothing for a moment but colors bleeding into one another, hears only the sound of them breathing together, tastes pure pleasure as he rakes his claws up the boy's thighs to push his knees apart, resting his hands on them before slamming his hips down to meet him._

_His vision fades back in and is filled with the boy under him, pupils blown and gaze glassy as Hinata relentlessly grinds back into him, arches his back and savors every inch of his cock, legs spread wide over his hips, taking him deep enough that he can feel the boy ignite that spark of fire within him that makes him tremble from head to toe, voice bursting out of him, loud and wanton._

_The boy raises his shaking hands, sliding them up the deep curve of his back, pressing hard into his flesh, before brushing slowly over his wings once again._

_The humans never touch him like this, taking note of all the ways he is different, all the additional ways to pleasure him that they lack. It isn't their fault—his focus is on them, on satisfying them while he does the same for himself, so they never have a need to do anything but lie there under his hands._

_But this one isn't content with that. This one wants to_ know _him—Hinata has tasted the satisfaction the boy feels, smoky and warm, when he discovers something new, something different, something they can enjoy together. And his eyes go so wide, his lips part in awe, as Hinata comes apart, crying out when the boy grinds deep inside him and strokes his wings from where they meet his body, all the way out to the very tips._

_Hinata throws his head back and paints the boy's stomach with hot ropes of cum before he drops forward onto his broad chest, panting and sated, emitting soft tones of praise, radiating fulfillment._

_The boy starts to still beneath him, unsure of what to do, now that he's watched Hinata's release. When their eyes meet, the boy's are wide, pleading, and Hinata leans up, runs his tongue slowly against the shell of the boy's ear, hears him gasp. One of his hands flies to Hinata's hair, tangling into it as he starts to roll his hips again, slow at first, distracted, as Hinata sucks on his earlobe, keening low and encouraging, teeth soft and grazing over the skin. But his lips and tongue get wet, messy as the boy's speed picks up, until Hinata can't help but moan, breathless, into his ear, oversensitive and open and hot all over_.

_He bites down on the boy's ear, hard, and the hand in his hair tightens and pulls. The boy's hips jerk beneath him, and he gasps quietly, two, three times—little hiccups searching for air, and Hinata shivers as he feels warmth and contentment flood inside him._

_It's the first time he's let the boy take him, but he will come back to this feeling over, and over. Of this, he is sure._

_He tugs on the boy's ear again, sliding his lips over it, but when he tries to whisper his name like he had the first night (because he wants the boy to know, even if he won't remember), he finds he can't. The human sounds that had come so easily before do not come now._

_The boy turns to look at him, eyes heavy, an almost smile on his lips. He falls asleep quickly, and Hinata fades from his side, wondering where the sounds of his name have gone._

#  **found**

Kageyama writes his name on just about everything he owns. He writes it in water resistant, permanent black ink. On the insides of his shirts, his shorts, his underwear; on his books and supplies for school; most importantly, on his volleyball gear, water bottle, knee pads, and the ball he brings to and from his house.

This way, when his belongings go missing, he has a pretty reliable method of tracking them down.

He will lose them, and after a few weeks a helpful member of the cleaning staff will find him (they mostly know Kageyama, by name, because it's written on all the things he loses) and return whatever it is they've found.

Once, a well meaning janitor asked him how his briefs ended up behind a vending machine on the third story, within earshot of some of his teammates.

They laugh behind their hands as Kageyama frowns and tells the man that he doesn't know how, he just loses things sometimes. The laughter grows louder, but he pretends not to hear, and to his credit, so does the janitor. But, no one asks him again how his things go missing.

At least he has his name on all of them, so that whenever he loses something, it still manages to find its way back.

—

_Impatient._

_The human boy is taking too long to sleep tonight. He works for some time, head bent over pages with writing on it Hinata doesn't understand. The same kind of writing he sees on the boy's things, repeated over and over, four symbols made of interweaving lines. Hinata passes the time waiting by finding all the things in the room with the familiar writing._

_When the boy finally goes to bed, Hinata is ready to fall into it with him. He's sleeping nearly as soon as he lays down his head, and only then can Hinata appear to him, only then can he lie next to the boy and caress his face and arms until blue eyes start to flutter open, sleepily, to see Hinata there beside him. There is a familiarity in his gaze that Hinata has grown used to almost frighteningly quick—the soft comfort of expectancy, like the boy has been his for years, instead of weeks. Maybe the length of time doesn't matter, with this one._

_The boy says something, voice indistinct, muffled by the haze of sleep. It's not Hinata's name. He wants to be frustrated by that, but then the boy is reaching for him, hands grabbing his arms to pull him in until they are lying with each other in the sheets, with the boy's hands brushing over his body, one of the boy's long legs in between his, and his mouth open and wet against Hinata's. He touches and he kisses like they've always known each other, and it makes Hinata feel like he's losing control, perspective, blinds him to the fact that this can't last._

_He just wants this boy._

_Hinata lets him know it, grinding against the leg between his thighs, pulling at his clothes, until the boy slips out of his underwear, his cock sliding free, already hard. When he sits up to take off his shirt, Hinata crawls into his lap, just so he can feel them rubbing together a little sooner. He tilts his head back and mewls, softly, slides up against the boy and hears the catch of breath in his throat._

_But now he's taking too long with the shirt. Hinata grabs the back of it, pulling it up and off—and he sees it._

_Four symbols, made of lines, in black ink on the inside of the shirt._

_And for the first time, he thinks he may understand what they mean._

_—_

The creature pulls off Kageyama's shirt, and then holds it in its hands, staring at it, leaving Kageyama naked and panting, thoughts muffled and confused. Why had they stopped? He doesn't want to stop.

Kageyama tries to pull it back in, wants to taste it again, to kiss it, hopefully for forever—but the little creature is distracted, eyes wandering and head turning, so Kageyama gets its cheek, the corner of its mouth, lips sliding together for less than a second as it looks about his room. When one of its horns nearly catches him in the eye as it swivels its head, he huffs, almost annoyed.

"Oy, dumbass," he murmurs, but the demon boy is already climbing off his lap, off the bed entirely, poking about his room. "What are you doing?"

It ignores him, mostly, aside from emitting a series of low trills that sound a little soothing, like it's trying to pacify him. Kageyama huffs and leans back on his elbows in the pillows, watching as the creature searches for _something,_ gathering up items. Its small, thin membraned wings flutter like an afterthought, tail swishing, flicking sharply like an exclamation as it spots the volleyball on his floor. It bends to pick the ball up, providing Kageyama with a _nice_ view, and he rolls onto his side, eyelids heavy with a contented type of laziness as he reaches down to stroke a hand over himself, biting back a moan.

The demon looks back at him, at what he's doing, and a slow smile spreads over its delicate features.

"Shut up," Kageyama tells it, even though it hasn't said a word. "Get back here."

It appears that it's ready to do so. When the winged boy comes back, it has brought things with it—a couple of textbooks, and the volleyball. It sets them down on the bed before crawling back into Kageyama's lap, leaning in to kiss him as it wraps a small hand around Kageyama's, helping stroke him, soft laughter falling into Kageyama's open mouth as he gasps and moans.

But then it's pulling away, smiling and shifting its soft, naked body against Kageyama's as it presses its fingers to his mouth, imploring that he listen. Kageyama is about to protest, when the creature lifts up some of the textbooks, showing them to him. Kageyama stares blankly, confused.

"What?" he asks.

It shoves the books into his face, but this doesn't make anything clearer. It sighs, like it's disappointed in him, and puts them back down on the bed. Then it picks up the volleyball, turning it over in its hands before showing it to Kageyama.

Written on the white surface of the section it has presented—like it's written on the front of each book—are lines of black kanji— _Kageyama Tobio._

Kageyama blinks. "My… name?"

The creature babbles softly at him in its melodic language, before picking up his discarded t-shirt and turning it inside out, thrusting it in his face. Written on the inside collar, again, is his name.

Kageyama nods, but the creature lets out an irritable chirp, thrusting the shirt out at him, practically pushing his face into the fabric. Kageyama pushes back at him, and this results in some sort of shoving battle between them.

"What do you _want?"_

It drops the shirt and claps its hands to Kageyama's face, hard enough that his cheeks sting. Kageyama cringes, opening his mouth to yell at it, but the creature says,

"You?"

Kageyama freezes, mid-breath. The boy takes advantage of his momentary shock, and leans in to kiss him.

"You?" it breathes again against his lips, and its own are soft and warm. Its voice, in human speech, is like the rest of its language—high and sweet and a little breathless. It makes Kageyama's heart pound.

"You can _talk?"_ Kageyama asks. But the creature cocks its head and just looks at him with its fire eyes, curious, and uncomprehending. "Not a lot, huh?" He guesses that's not exactly true—he's come to realize that the little monster talks a _lot,_ that all the melodic strains of sound it constantly produces are how it communicates… it's just that neither of them can understand each other.

The demon boy reaches for the shirt again, grasping at it with slender fingers, looking from it to Kageyama and back again.

Kageyama frowns down at the kanji. "It says Kageyama Tobio." The creature stares fixedly at him, but it opens and closes his mouth, tiny pointed canines showing as its eyes stay locked on Kageyama. Kageyama picks up the shirt, pointing at each symbol in turn. "Kageyama. Tobio."

"Ka—"

It's a little coughed sound, forced, but unmistakeable. Kageyama snaps his eyes back to the demon's, mouth dry, as it works its lips and tongue and throat, frowning mightily.

"Ka… ge…"

"Yama," Kageyama prompts.

"Ge… ya…"

"Ma."

The creature growls and shoves its forehead against Kageyama's, hard. It's practically glaring at him, their faces so close together it's going a little cross-eyed. The determination in its eyes does not waver.

And then it says, ponderously, "Kage… yama."

"Holy shit," Kageyama breathes, shoving his forehead back against its own, pressing so hard his head hurts. "You're not totally stupid."

He's not sure if the demon boy understands the words or the sentiment, but suddenly his head is being dragged to the side by his hair, and there are sharp teeth, digging into his neck. He hisses.

_"Fuck—"_

"Kageyama," the creature snarls, and then ruts its hips downward, the sensation shocking as it grinds their cocks against each other, and Kageyama feels the world start to fracture. He drags his hands down the demon's back, finding a hold on its ass and gripping tight.

"Tobio," he gasps. "Kageyama Tobio."

"To…" the boy tries, licking a hot stripe over the bite marks on his neck. "…Bi…" It kisses Kageyama's jaw, mouthing wetly over it. "Oh."

"Mmhm." Kageyama nods, eyes slipping closed, head tilting back. Helpless.

"Kageyama," the creature says again, pulling away from him, sliding down the length of his body. The tail flicks dangerously, and Kageyama opens his bleary eyes to watch, as the winged demon pulls his legs open wide, slowly licking its lips. Kageyama swallows as it looks up and their eyes meet, so that he gazes into burning embers. "Tobio."

"That's me," he whispers. It's all he manages, and then his eyes are rolling back as the creature dives down, feasts on him, spreads him apart and lays claim to his entire body, now that it knows his name.

There are moments when he's so overwhelmed, feeling so much, that he can't remember it.

The demon makes sure the sounds find their way back to him.

"Kageyama Tobio," it whispers, when it rocks deep inside of him, filling him up with a burning, searing heat, until he's crying out, begging for more, for release, for anything and everything. _"Kageyama."_

It says his name, again and again, as though it is now etched on the creature's tongue and mind the same way Kageyama has written it on all the things he doesn't want to lose.

#  **stay**

His teammates notice the change in Kageyama before he himself does.

When he calls out a "Nice receive," or a "Don't mind!", they give him looks. It's not that he's rude or demanding anymore, he's just quiet. He's learned to recognize when he's been made an outsider.

But lately, he finds that he just doesn't give a shit what they think. This is a new state he's entered, but it's a better one. There's a vague haze of happiness hovering under the surface of his skin, making him buoyant. His routine no longer feels like a rut he's stuck tracing, but a path he's walking.

He thinks he's finally started dreaming, again. He doesn't know what about, but he thinks they're probably good dreams. Sometimes, he wakes up with… evidence, on his sheets, to support this theory.

Naturally, he tries to remember who (or what) he dreamed about, which leads to a considerable amount of time spent zoning out in class, and he sometimes thinks he hears the sound of a high bell, chiming and harmonic, at the edge of his hearing and consciousness. A sound so light it seems to float on the air, and this is also reminiscent of dreaming. It makes him feel lighter, too. But when he turns his head toward the bell tone, he doesn't hear it again. Until he stops paying attention and then, there it is, once more. Like a comforting reminder.

One of his teammates even brings it up after practice one day, asking him if anything's changed. Kageyama shrugs and tells him nothing has, as he pulls off his shirt, and that's when the other boy raises his eyebrows.

"Are you sure about that?" he asks.

There's a laugh from across the locker room, and someone else says, "Damn, Kageyama-kun."

He's gotten less skittish around them, lately, let his guard down a little at a time. And of course, _now_ he remembers the marks, the reason he doesn't change in the locker rooms anymore. Red lines grazed over his chest, dark sloppy splotches across his hip bones, little bruises in the shape of what look like fingerprints. His face reddens in embarrassment, and he glares down at himself in bewilderment because he knows what this looks like, but—

"I don't know where these came from," he says, realizing even as he says it that he sounds like an idiot.

"Right, sure," one of his teammates says, but then claps him on the back rather heartily.

His face burns. And yet…

This is just one more thing that he can't put his finger on. Like the dreams he might be having, the unknown source of the soft happiness he can't (doesn't want to) shake off.

Whatever is going on, his teammates in his year seem to loosen up around him a little bit, after that. And even though it's embarrassing (and he _swears_ he doesn't know where the marks on his thighs came from), it's not so bad, at least.

—

_Hinata can sense Kageyama by now, even while they are apart, even while Kageyama is fully awake and away from his bed and Hinata can only catch vague glimpses of him, when he daydreams, sometimes when he dozes in his classes._

_He has felt the little, faltering drip of happiness in the boy growing, and when Kageyama sleeps, Hinata is by his side in seconds, to watch with amazed fondness as the human_ (his _human, as he's come to think of the boy) wakes and welcomes him, with all his odd contradictions._

_He'll be frowning and surly as he traces over Hinata's bare thighs with light, hesitant touches. His voice will be impatient, almost angry, even as he softly presses his lips to Hinata's throat, his shoulders, fingers picking out patterns against the sensitive membrane of his wings, until Hinata is writhing and mewling, begging him for more._

_All these contradictions, like the night Hinata first became aware of him, drawn to him instantly by the intensity of his bright dream strands, at the same time he wondered at their silence._

_But tonight's weaving is not silent. It is as shockingly bright as ever, but this one, this one Hinata hears. This one he can see._

_He can see Kageyama's dream. For the first time since he found this human, he can see it, taste the images. But that isn't even the most amazing thing._

_Kageyama is dreaming about_ him.

_He watches, attention rapt, as Kageyama dreams of Hinata coming to him, dreams of Hinata waking him to touch him, to bite him, to mark him. He tosses in the sheets, he's restless, as he dreams Hinata climbing onto him, fingers in his dark hair as he takes Kageyama inside himself, eyes lighting up hot as Kageyama cradles his face in his hands and kisses him._

_Kageyama, who should remember nothing about him as soon as Hinata is gone from his bed, dreams of holding Hinata close and pressing their lips together as he fucks him, purposeful and slow._

_Outside of it, observing, Hinata staggers forward with his heart burning inside his chest, frantic and desperate. Because the threads of Kageyama's dream, this first, impossible dream of his, are brighter than ever. They are beautiful, but they can't last, and Hinata knows that they will fade out too soon at this rate, ignited so hot._

_And it will be his fault, and he won't be able to stop it, not even if he pulls away now, never comes back to this room and this bed and this bright human boy. That is how it has always been, that is what his existence means to a human, and he has accepted it, never questioned it but—not now. Not this time._

_He doesn't want the light here to go dark._

_Kageyama dreams of Hinata, with his eyes closed and head tipped back, as he loses himself to the boy, and Hinata needs—he_ needs.

_He can't stop himself._

_—_

Kageyama wakes slowly, amidst an ebb and flow of sensation as he pulls away from his dream. He can't remember it, but he felt so happy, so _good,_ and it must have stuck with him, because even now, he feels—fuck, he _feels—_

He gasps, breath stuttering from his lungs, as he fades from muted pleasure into an intense, building rush of it, rolling his head on his pillow to see the cause.

The bright little demon (his, he thinks helplessly— _his_ demon) straddles his hips, already stretched around his cock, tight and hot as it rolls its hips to take him deep. It stares down at him with an expression Kageyama knows he has never seen it wear before. The winged boy looks ruined, overwhelmed—flushed all over, face red and so desperate that tears prick at the corners of its eyes. It clutches at its face with its fingers, dips them into its mouth—Kageyama is afraid the little sharp claws will prick its skin open, and he reaches up, grabs its hands to pull them away from its face.

"Don't do that," he tells it, and it stares dazedly at him, before lowering its hands to his chest to push up to his shoulders, rocking back on him, and he groans as his hips meet the boy's ass, as he's buried in all that heat.

The creature lets out a trembling, breathy tone, rising at the end, and Kageyama nods as he presses his fingers into its waist.

"It's fine," he says, even though he isn't quite sure what he's responding to—he just doesn't like the note of uncertainty he hears in its voice, the way it's looking at him. Like it's worried about something.

Some of the tension in its body melts away as they move together, as Kageyama raises his hips to meet it, as it stares down at him and moans softly, "Kageyama…"

And he wonders how it's possible that he can never remember any of this in daylight—its face, and its voice, and nights like the one it asked him his name, and learned, and knows who he is.

He sits up, catching the demon boy off guard—its eyes widen, but then he is cradling its small frame in his arms as he flips them over on the bed, so the demon is below him, staring up, eyes smouldering and wide as he cages it between his arms. Belatedly, he remembers all the extra, inhuman features it has, and brings his hands gently to its shoulder blades, where its thin wings press into the bed.

"Okay?" he whispers, even though there's no point.

But the demon growls softly and slides a hand into his hair, bringing him down close enough that their foreheads can touch. "Kageyama," it says again, insistent, as it wraps its legs around his waist, and he nods.

Because he wants so badly to do this—he wants to take control and satisfy it, and when he begins to move again, his thrusts are hard and steady, hips snapping into the small body beneath him, rhythmic and rough.

The creature puts its arms tight around his neck, no longer making its musical sounds—its breathing is harsh in his ear, giving way to choked moans as he thrusts inside its heat, over and over, his own breath gasping out of him as he gets closer, about to fall, but then—

"To-Tobio—"

He freezes at the sound of the little voice, lifting his head to look, chest feeling tight as he catches sight of the demon's face.

"Why…" Kageyama says softly, raising his hands to its warm cheeks, "…why are you crying?"

Because it is. It looks up at him, silent and achingly sad, with its frighteningly beautiful eyes welling over with tears, fat droplets running down its face.

Kageyama immediately tries to get off it, wondering what he did, what he's done to cause this, but strong legs tighten around his waist and the creature bites its lip and shakes its head no. But it doesn't stop crying.

"Don't," he says, frustrated and helpless. He tries to wipe away the wetness on its face but he can't; the tears fall too fast. "I can't, not if you're like this—I don't even know what happened."

The boy touches Kageyama's chest, right above his heart. "Kageyama."

 _"What?"_ Kageyama asks, not annoyed, but what is he supposed to _do?_

The creature pulls its hand away and taps at its own chest, its own heart.

Kageyama feels his own sink. He thinks he understands. "I… I don't know. I don't know your name."

And now his heart maybe cracks, right down the middle, as he watches its lower lip tremble before it reaches up, scrubbing its palm over its eyes. And then it smiles at him.

"Stop," he says. "You're not okay, stupid, I can tell."

But it won't stop smiling, it reaches up for him and pulls him in close, and when it murmurs his name in his ear, _"Kageyama"_ , throaty and husky and pleading, he can't stop himself.

He rocks their bodies together slowly, and he knows the demon boy starts crying again because he can hear it in the wavering of its voice as it breathes his name, again and again, high and soft. But it wraps its arms around him and won't let him go, won't let him look at its face.

"I'm sorry," Kageyama whispers.

He doesn't think it knows what the words mean, but he hopes it can understand him.

—

_Kageyama feels incredible inside him. Hinata has never had one of the humans like this before, been connected by something that seems so much stronger than just need and appetite. But then, he's never sought to discover a name before. He's never wanted so badly to give his own in return._

_But when he tries, only silence comes from his mouth, unlike the first night, when he told Kageyama how to say it._

_He needs Kageyama to say it. He needs Kageyama not to fade away from him. He doesn't want to say goodbye, and he doesn't want to go back to aimlessly wandering the ocean of thought and noise, because he'll never find another human like this. Not like this boy._

_So he says Kageyama's name, over and over, until he's gasping it, crying it out as he drags his fingers down Kageyama's back, clawing at his skin as he comes—and Kageyama buries his face in Hinata's neck, and that deep voice Hinata wants to listen to forever, even though he can't quite understand it, thrums through his whole body as Kageyama moans long and low. He pumps Hinata full of himself, body shaking as he finishes, and Hinata holds him close, careful to retract his claws as he rubs his hands over the welts he's left on Kageyama's back._

_Kageyama looks at him, blue eyes already growing sleepy, even as he fights to keep them open. He says something, winding his fingers into Hinata's hair as he eases out of him, and Hinata hates the sadness in his eyes when Kageyama catches sight of the tear tracks, hates that he made Kageyama look like this. Hates that he ever grew curious about this boy and couldn't resist him, and now will have to lose him._

_He should have stayed away._

_But he can't, now, and so he nuzzles his head into Kageyama's, wrapping his tail loosely around one of his arms, curling his entire body against the human's large frame, staying in his bed long after he's fallen back asleep._

_He tries not to let himself hope that Kageyama will remember him the next night, too, even in dreaming._

_He tries, but it's too easy to hope, when this human has done so many impossible things already._

#  **wake.**

Kageyama jerks awake in the morning, hand flying out beside him to search his bed. He's met only with cool sheets and an absence, something missing. There is something missing.

It's a feeling he can't shake the entire day; not in practice, where he feels off kilter and underperforms, or in class where he can't focus on anything, or when he gets home again and is left to his own devices, milling about his small apartment aimlessly.

At a loss for things to do, he turns on his computer and sits in front of it, wondering why he decided upon that course of action in the first place. But then, he brings up the search page and just starts typing.

First he tries _'trouble sleeping',_ but that doesn't seem right. He's not really having trouble sleeping, but the next most accurate thing is _'trouble waking up',_ and that just turns up a lot of half-assed tips for waking up more effectively in the mornings. But that's not his problem, either.

 _'I never feel like I'm awake'_ turns up mental wellness sites, and he hasn't felt like he's needed those in weeks. He's felt more at ease at practice and in class, less restless at home… until today.

 _'Feels like there is someone missing'_ is too vague, and gets him a lot of romance and dating websites. So he searches for what he feels in the most abstract part of his senses:

_'Feels like someone is with me when I sleep'._

Predictably, this takes him to the ghost stories corner of the internet. He scrolls past countless pages of folk tales about ghosts that sit on your chest while you sleep, faceless women with long black hair, imp-like creatures with bug eyes and fangs. Kageyama frowns. All of this seems very, very wrong—until he lands on a link that proclaims, very boldly: _The Dangers of Sleeping Sex Demons (how to guard yourself against the creatures of the night)._

The fact of the matter is that his wet dreams have been more like floods, lately, and so, face burning, feeling incredibly stupid, he clicks the link. Inside is… nothing all that helpful. There's a lot of ranting and raving about the temptation and evils of sex, how the demons prey on those possessed of loose morals, how victims must be "cleansed". But in the poorly designed sidebar is a list of different types of "Lilin-demons", night spirits. As he reads through them, his eye is caught by the description for _incubus._

These, the site says, are a type of male demon that lay with humans while they sleep to engage in sexual activity with them. Kageyama squints hard, thinking (with a certain level of lingering embarrassment) about the odd state he's been living in, the marks on his body (new, long scratches found on his back that very morning), the messy sheets he wakes up to more often than not, the occasional pain in his… well. He clicks through a few of the image links, nose scrunching as wrinkled, scraggly bearded faces flash across his screen again and again.

A stray thought, that _none of these look like mine._

Then, he pauses. _Like his?_

He sits back in his chair and thinks about this—he doesn't think he believes in the idea of all these malevolent night spirits, but maybe he's been having some kind of recurring dream. A good one, not like all the descriptions of fear and paralysis on the website. If he closes his eyes and tries to remember a dream, any dream of his, his most defined memory is _music._

Soft murmurs like a breeze blowing through glass chimes. High, pealing ringing, almost like a laugh, but with the undertones of plucked violin strings. The rounded, clear note of a sigh, like a kindling in him, high and yearning. And through it all, the mesmerizing tinkling of a small bell, set off at the lightest touch or movement.

And maybe… told to him long ago…

The desk clock notes that it is late evening. He changes and gets ready for bed, a feeling of determination settling upon him when he lies down against the pillows.

If there really is something for him to remember, then tonight, he'll make _sure_ he doesn't forget again.

—

_Kageyama's dream is different again, that night, but no less stunning._

_In it, he watches Hinata sleep, the two of them lying side by side. His long fingers he strokes gently through Hinata's hair._

_Hinata watches Kageyama watching him. His chest rises and falls peacefully, and it's strange, to see himself sleeping, because he hasn't ever before. But it's still stranger, that Kageyama is dreaming it. He watches as, in the dream, his lashes flutter, and one ear flicks sharply before settling, as Kageyama trails his fingers over it softly. His tail drapes over Kageyama's hip, and it makes his breath catch to see it, because the boy has noticed the little details. He remembers all of them._

_If he can remember these things while dreaming, then he has to remember when Hinata wakes him, Hinata_ knows _he can do it_ …

_There is no coyness, no pretense of flirting, when he wakes the boy. Kageyama blinks, once, focus clearing, before he sees Hinata and jerks upright. He closes one hand around Hinata's much smaller wrist and practically yanks him forward, and Hinata chirps in surprise as he tumbles into him._

_Kageyama murmurs something as he takes Hinata's face in his hands, his hold tight as he kisses him, a little roughly. A little too hard. Hinata presses against him and hums, wanting this, wanting him. He whines when the boy pulls away, but Kageyama shushes him, brushing his thumbs across his cheeks, staring intently into his face. He whispers, and Hinata cocks his head._

_"O-K?" Kageyama asks again, slowly, and Hinata nods, understanding the simple phrase. Some of the tension in Kageyama's shoulders bleeds out, and he relaxes, eyes losing a little of their fierce intensity, softening as he presses his lips quickly to Hinata's forehead. Hinata feels the heat inside him build higher, somehow, at this. At the familiarity, the softness, the way Kageyama looks at him, remembering that he was not okay the last time, wanting him to be okay now._

_He tilts his chin upward and Kageyama kisses his whole face all the way down to his lips, and then he kisses those, too, long and deep, slips his tongue inside Hinata's mouth, licks into him, until Hinata can't stop the soft little moans that begin to fall from him. Kageyama feels so good that it muffles his mind, makes him want to lie back and let himself be opened while the boy is like this, all firm, adoring touches, observant eyes, insistent mouth._

_But this may be the last chance Hinata has, to make him remember, before the thread snaps. So tonight, he needs to be in control._

_He tangles a hand in Kageyama's hair, pulling tight, and Kageyama hisses in pain-pleasure, before he quiets immediately, when Hinata runs a single finger down the column of his throat, from under the tip of his chin to his collarbone. He rises up on his knees so Kageyama has to look up at him, now docile, lips parted and open._

_Hinata is not gentle when he pulls Kageyama's head back, drags his tongue up the side of his neck, tilts the boy's head sideways to mouth over his jaw before he sets on a relentless assault of his mouth that has Kageyama bracing his hands behind himself on the sheets to stay upright, gasping for air, face tilted up to meet Hinata as he drags kiss after bruising kiss from him. Hinata growls, bites the soft skin of Kageyama's lower lip, and draws blood. Kageyama's moan is soft and breathless when Hinata laps up the salty red, and Hinata swallows the sounds down, as well._

_With great effort, he pulls away from the kiss, to just look at the boy for a moment (and he wishes he could look forever). Kageyama's hair is mussed and disheveled, his eyes are dazed and unfocused, his cheeks and the bridge of his nose flushed bright and pink. He has a thin line of saliva running from the corner of his mouth over his chin, and Hinata leans in to run his tongue over it before pushing him back down against the pillows. He goes willingly, is so trusting—Hinata kisses his shoulder, and down his chest, sliding lower over his body until he lies between his long legs, and Kageyama lets them fall open, tongue laying against the bite mark on his bottom lip._

_Hinata kisses the strong muscles of his thighs, sucks the hot skin between his teeth, working his way lower and lower. His mouth is watering, he needs to prepare the boy, wants his mouth on him, wants to taste, and Kageyama knows him well enough by now. He turns over, dragging himself onto his knees and elbows, and Hinata lurches forward, made unsteady by pleading, hopeful nervousness, and how much he_ wants _this, to make Kageyama feel everything._

_The sounds Kageyama makes while he's like this—legs spread, head tilted and back curved so deep his chest touches the sheets—could satisfy Hinata for a hundred, a thousand years, maybe forever. But he only wants more, wants to hear them louder, breathier, drinks them in while he eats Kageyama out, slicking him deep as he presses his lips against him and thrusts his tongue in and out, flicking it inside his body. Kageyama's voice breaks on his cry._

_Hinata pulls back, sticks his fingers inside his mouth to coat them with his saliva. His claws are carefully retracted, fingertips soft and slick as he pushes two into Kageyama, breathes deep as Kageyama starts to shake, hips shifting, at first from side to side, then rolling back as Hinata stretches him, starts to fuck him on his fingers._

_The taste of Kageyama's need simmers on his tongue, sweet like berries, rich like wine, but it's not enough, and he hikes himself up over Kageyama's body, chest pressed to his back, licks up the sweat on his skin before he bites him again,_ _canines sinking in just below his left shoulder blade, and Kageyama's hips jerk and he moans and moans. Hinata's teeth leave two pinprick marks, two little drops of blood welling up on Kageyama's skin, and he rubs his mouth over it, smearing it over his lips, over Kageyama, before he licks it all clean._

_Slowly, Hinata slides his fingers from Kageyama's body, watches as his trembling subsides, pants and groans trailing off into soft whimpers. He's open and ready and Hinata could take him how he is right now, any other night, but not this one._

_On this night, he needs the boy to forget everything, know nothing but one word, a sound, that Hinata can no longer tell him. Somehow, he understands that it is important, that Kageyama remember. Hinata hopes he can make him remember._

_And he will make it so very worth the effort on Kageyama's part._

—

It takes Kageyama's mind a few moments to move past the blankness that has overtaken it. The feeling is so strong that it doesn't immediately register with him that he's no longer being touched—his body is still trembling, cock leaking into the sheets, heart pounding and making the flushed, tight skin of his chest feel even hotter.

With what feels like a huge amount of effort, he picks his head up from where he's been leaning against the pillows and manages to look over his shoulder, still panting for breath.

The demon boy is not there.

Kageyama sucks in a gasp and pushes himself onto his hands and knees, limbs still shaking, a cold wave of— _something_ washing over him. Not fear, perhaps, closer to dread. Because it was _just_ there, he knows he wasn't dreaming—

A soft little noise, a reassuring high trill, snaps his attention upward.

He stares, because, hovering just a few feet or so above the bed is the winged creature. Its wings aren't flapping, though—instead, it's not so much flying as floating, suspended. Like the air is water, and even as Kageyama thinks this, it does a lazy little spin that propels it forward, like it's pushing through a current to get to him. It circles him hypnotically, wide, bright eyes apologetic now as it bumps its head against his neck, looping around him gracefully to nuzzle all over his body.

"I thought you _left,"_ he says, trying to sound angry. It's immensely difficult, because he's never seen it do this before, this air-swimming thing. It's… beautiful to watch, as its small body undulates around him when it darts under one of his arms to circle back to his front, hands alighting on his chest, kissing him steady again.

It takes his hands and tugs, and he leans forward into the kiss, feeling his heartbeat slow into something more rhythmic, more reminiscent of the moments before his brief panic. He feels the heat, bubbling below the surface, still feels open and stretched and a little achy—needs something to fill him up, he knows, the thought making him blush. The creature keeps tugging and he keeps following, wanting, but then he's suddenly rising _too much,_ and his eyes fly open, his yelp getting lost in the demon's mouth as he begins—slowly—to leave the soft surface of the bed, and finds his limbs and body and flesh supported by _nothing_ underneath.

"No," he says, and the creature _laughs,_ nodding at him. "Nope, no, stop—"

It swirls around him, movements easy and light, a far cry from the way he is now awkwardly paddling his hands through the air. It wraps its arms around him, pressing their foreheads and noses together, and Kageyama feels the long tail loop around his waist as well. He stills. The creature looks at him intently.

He relaxes, and does not fall, naked and floating four feet above his bed.

The demon smiles, a small, prideful quirk of its lips lingering on its face as it kisses him again, and again, and he realizes it's proud of _him,_ and his blood heats once more.

The brief moment of quiet, its unspoken apology for making him worry, fades as quickly as it came on. Very soon, there are hot fingers on his skin, sharp canines slowly grazing the length of his neck before biting down hard. Kageyama cries out, voice dissolving into soft whines as the creature sucks and licks at him in turns, down his throat and over his chest, until it fastens its lips over one of his nipples. 

Kageyama squeezes his eyes shut and shoves his fingers into the demon's mess of bright hair, holding it there, trembling and shuddering at the small flicks of its tongue over the sensitive nubs, alternating between each—closing its teeth around them and tugging, letting them slip from its hot mouth before laving over them again with its tongue, pulling them back between its lips, teeth grazing, biting once more. Each momentary sharp instance of pain fades into a tingling pleasure that seeps through Kageyama's entire body, until he's twisting his hands in the little monster's hair, pulling so hard it snarls and doubles its efforts, sucking at him until the hardened peaks are red and sore, sensitive to every touch, every breath of air the creature breathes across them.

Then it slides a hand teasingly down his chest, fingers dancing, before wrapping one small hand around his cock to stroke him torturously slow, and he sobs, thrusting up into its grip.

It litters his neck and throat and chest with dark bruises and little red bites, and Kageyama knows he is going to look _savaged_ the next day, the victim of some kind of beast, and he doesn't care. He wants to be covered in these signs, he wants them everywhere on his body, he wants the way they burn echoed deep inside of him—he feels that little, sinful hand trail low over the base of his cock, fingers brushing over his balls before pushing into him again, and he chokes on desperation.

The demon slides their lips together once more before it pulls away from him, circling behind him sinuously. There's a sharp nip at his earlobe, and he shivers as he feels its little short claws gently graze up his sides. He sinks back against its warm touch, ready for however it wants to have him.

What he's not expecting is for it to slide its hands over his thighs, before gripping underneath them and pulling them apart, spreading him wide, _wide_ open, to the limits of his flexibility. His eyes fly open, and he reflexively slides his arm over the demon's shoulders to steady himself as it positions its body beneath him, head underneath his arm so it can look up at him, at his face.

"Kageyama," it says, and the noise he makes at hearing it say his name is lost and wanton.

He can _feel_ its heat at his entrance, but it doesn't move any further. It just waits.

"P-please—" he begs it. But he only gets a little crackling snarl in return, and claws digging a little harder into his shaking thighs.

 _"Kageyama,"_ the creature repeats again, slower, and he forces himself to look down.

It's looking up at him with that bright burning gaze, and when they finally make eye contact, it nudges its head into his side, insistent. He reaches out with an unsteady hand to touch its cheek.

"I don't _know_ your name," he says. "You've never told me."

The winged boy sets its mouth in a hard line—and maybe it's taking pity on him, but it seems more determined than anything—and pushes its thick length inside of him, thrusting up so suddenly that Kageyama presses his palm to his mouth to muffle the loud keening noise he can't keep down.

It feels so good, so exactly what he needs, to be filled up like this, to be reminded of the small monster's unnatural strength as it slams its cock inside of his body again and again, thrusting home every time. It's all too easy with the way Kageyama is spread across its lap like a rag doll, his flushed thighs open wide and his cock twitching against his stomach, leaking heavily from his slit all down his shaft.

They've fucked hard like this, rough, but never while he's so exposed and helpless. It makes him feel like he's being taken over, given to the fire demon that has spent so many long, heated nights marking him as its own, possessing him.

It shifts under him, buries itself inside him, hits a spot that makes his vision pop with color into a white haze and he was already too close from the feel of its fingers and tongue inside him, he's going to come, he feels it in his stomach and his balls, toes curling as everything goes hot and tight and—

He doesn't come. He lets his head slump forward, exhausted and lost and his cock is throbbing, but it's also…

He can see it, looking down like this. There's something curled around his dick, long and dark and velvety.

Through his muddled confusion, he realizes. The tail. The demon (an apt description, currently) has stopped fucking him, but it has its thin tail snaked around his cock, pulled tight at the base, and Kageyama can't finish. He's so fucking close to the edge, but he can't get over.

He looks down again at the little creature, eyes wide, and it looks up at him before pressing its forehead to his side and kissing the grooves of his ribs.

He groans, writhing his lower body down over the cock inside him, and at the very least, he gets to watch the creature's eyes flutter blissfully as it presses wet, open mouthed kisses to his side, claws digging into his legs. He grunts and pants. He needs more.

"Kageyama," he hears again, and he whimpers as it slides slowly out of him, leaving just the tip of its cock inside him.

"I _can't—"_

 _"Tobio,_ " it snarls, pushing back in, hips snapping, and his cock jumps, violently. He thinks he might be going blind from how it feels to be pushed to the point of breaking, and then ever so slowly past it. His head is spinning and he can't think straight and it _hurts_ , but there's a part of him, a large part of him, that likes this far too much, the unyielding stretch and ache as he's filled over and over, his body trembling for release as it's denied, with each forceful thrust, a way to surrender to the pleasure.

And so instead, it builds. And builds. And _builds._

It's fighting him at the same time it floods and surrounds him, until he can't stop his eyes from watering and his mind from wandering, just to cope, to keep him awake instead of passing out from the overwhelming rush of it.

And through it all, he can hear soft whispers, then moans, and then pleading cries, all one word: "Tobio, Tobio, _Tobio—_ "

He looks down at the creature and his heart leaps at the way it watches him, attention open and focused, hopeful. So hopeful, in such a beautiful, awful way, making him bite his lip because he wants to give it all he can, like it has done for him.

"I'm—" he tries to say, as another surging pulse of heat drags through him and causes him to lose his breath, his voice. Because suddenly, he feels hopeless.

He hates the thought of letting it leave like this, again. After everything.

After he'd learned everything else, the tiny nuances of its body, the smallest, softest ways to bring it to shaking orgasm in his sheets, watching it come apart under his touch.

After the night before, when instead of stopping, he'd just let it cry in his arms as it let him have his fill of its body.

After it had learned his name, tongue rolling over the syllables, small, pink lips working determinedly around the foreign sounds, before the triumphant way its eyes sparked at saying it correctly, _Kageyama Tobio._

And more than anything else, after it had found him. After it had seen him and wanted him. That had been so long ago, and it is so, so hard to remember that first night, the way dreams become murky and faded over time.

But still. He remembers the light of the boy's eyes when he first saw them glow in the night darkness. He remembers the first time it touched him (the first time anyone had ever touched him), before it had taken him apart. A little bit like this, though not as agonizing. Achingly slow, and the shock of being known so intimately is a faint echo of the way the creature has him falling apart now.

And he can't and won't forget the way it held his gaze, even as he started to sink into sleep, like it didn't want to leave him, even then. Like he was worth staying beside. And he'd asked…

His breath stutters in his chest, a moan escaping him, and the demon grips him tight and pants out a high-pitched whine. Its hips jerk up into him, rolling, and he can tell it's close to losing control, finally.

And Kageyama can't hold on, anymore. Because he remembers.

 _"What's your name?"_ he had asked on that night, many, many nights ago. Still sure it was just a dream, nothing more. Fighting to keep his eyes open all the same.

He had been mostly unsuccessful, and his eyes had slid closed peacefully, as he listened to the gentle music of the winged boy's speech, the sleep toll of the bell on its collar.

Soft pressure against his ear and he had been told the answer, that very first night they were together.

He knows its name. He's known from the start.

"Hi—" he gasps, the noise tearing out of him, sudden and startling. He feels the demon's movements go still inside of him, and it's alright, for this one moment—this is important. _"Hinata—"_

_ _

The name comes out a broken sob, his reddened cock throbbing and pulsing as he says it, and he's finally done—his voice is wrenched from him, the sheer force of his release feels like it's tearing him in two as he spills straight through the pressure wrapped around him, right before it slackens. It's overwhelmingly  _incredible,_ it's  _everything—_ consuming him, burning him up as it all pours out of him, the blinding pleasure sweeping away the frustrated, pent-up emotions as he finally remembers, for good, all the things he wanted to know. As the final piece falls into place.

He looks down to see that the creature is smiling up at him. Its eyes are alight, and Kageyama feels his own get too hot, pricking at the corners.

The demon boy pulls him back down slowly, buries itself in his heat and leans against him, eyes sliding closed and mouth falling open as it comes inside him with a low cry. Kageyama can't stop saying its name, then, helpless repetition as he feels warmth pour inside of him, as the creature shakes and presses its face into his side, kisses the skin there like a little prayer. Strange, how reverent it can be.

And Kageyama feels so tired, now that he's finished—now that he finally did all he could. Slender arms wrap around his waist, and a tiny, awed voice breathes,

_"Kageyama."_

Kageyama closes his eyes.

—

_Kageyama passes out while Hinata is still inside him, and Hinata feels suddenly cold all over. He pulls out of him, draws him back down to the bed, and thumps his head hard down against the boy's chest._

_He hears the beating of a human heart. It's still rapid, but slowing._

_His own beats to match it._

_Hinata sits up, wiping his wet eyes on the back of his hand. He should be annoyed. He's already cried far too much because of this long-limbed, blue-eyed boy. Instead, he can't stop smiling, the sound of his name on the boy's lips still sifting through his mind._

_It's then that Kageyama starts to dream, and Hinata looks about the room as it is filled with the lights of his thoughts._

_The images echo his dream from earlier, the two of them lying side by side. This time, though, Hinata is awake, and they're just looking at each other. Hinata is beaming at the boy, smiling wide enough to bare his little fangs, and Kageyama… Kageyama looks like he's been given the world._

_It's gradual, at first, but after a few moments of watching himself together with Kageyama, Hinata notices the dream is starting to dim—first, just a blurring of the outside edges, but the shadow reaches across all of it, darkening it, putting out the brightest threads Hinata had ever seen._

_He turns his head side to side, mouth falling open as he witnesses them go. He's never seen anything like it, but he's not afraid. When the humans fade, it's always been all at once—but Kageyama won't fade._

_He knows Hinata's name. And that will keep him bright._

_When it comes down to the last thread, everything else has gone dark, save for the steadily blurring picture at the center._

_Kageyama traces the shape of Hinata's lips with his fingers, before his own start to form sounds, a whisper._

_A name._

_Then the thread burns out, and with it goes the dream._

_Hinata sits in the silence for a moment, before a stirring movement next to him draws his attention._

_Kageyama shifts slightly in the bed, fast asleep. Hinata lowers himself next to him, carefully, so he doesn't wake. He puts his hand on Kageyama's chest and feels his heart beating steady and calm. Everything Hinata could have wanted, still alive inside the human boy._

_He has loved watching over Kageyama's dreams. But he won't miss it._

_The real thing is so much brighter, after all._

—

Kageyama doesn't feel himself transition from dreaming to not. There is no transition. He opens his eyes, and feels the warmth of another body pressed to his own, a cloud of air curling over his skin, soft breathing. There is sunlight against his eyelids. He holds his breath and blinks them open.

The small demon lies in his arms, snug against him, fast asleep. He can see the side of its face, and it looks so _human_ like this—not really an _it,_ anymore, but a _he._

His eyes are closed, his cheeks are just the slightest bit pink, his lips are soft and full. He looks so relaxed, peaceful—it sends a whole flooding wave of relief through Kageyama, after remembering the way the boy has looked the past few times they've been together, the tearful, pleading eyes, the unyielding resolution of the night before. Just the fact that he can recall every detail sends a shock through him, because it's the first time he's been able to remember in the daylight.

Kageyama presses his lips tight together, as though this will keep every emotion crashing around inside him from spilling out. It just succeeds in making him lightheaded, and he presses his face into fire red hair and closes his eyes again, because closed or open, it won't make a difference.

He is not dreaming.

The little incubus— _Hinata_ —sighs, burrowing closer into his chest, small hands curled in the space between them. Claws retracted. The long tail is wrapped around Kageyama's leg, loosely, but possessive, all the same.

Kageyama reaches out and cups one of Hinata's cheeks in his palm, brushing his thumb over it. It's so soft—softer than anything he's ever felt, he thinks. Except for the rest of the creature's body, which is the same. He trails his fingertips over thin arms, down Hinata's sides, over the rounded, perfect hips and silk soft thighs.

He knows he isn't dreaming. But maybe even that wouldn't be so bad, as long as he could remember this, always.

There is a soft noise and he directs his attention back upward. Hinata is waking. His eyes blink sleepily open, red-gold and hazy, sweetly confused. Kageyama holds his breath as the catlike pupils dilate, focusing.

Hinata licks his lips. "Ka…" he whispers, and Kageyama's heart tightens. "Kageyama…"

Kageyama nods furiously, face heating up, and Hinata's eyes light up even brighter. Kageyama reaches out for him again, even as Hinata leans forward and breathes his name once more, this time against his lips, right before he kisses Kageyama.

It's so gentle and careful, nothing like the way Hinata kissed him the night before, but he thinks he likes both types of kisses—rough and biting, or this, now, as Hinata runs his warm, wet tongue over the little healing wound he left in Kageyama's bottom lip. He dips his tongue into Kageyama's mouth, pulling back quickly every time, teasing him, until Kageyama is breathless and dazed.

"Hinata," he says, just to say it. Because he remembers.

He finds himself being pushed onto his back, as Hinata crawls over him, tail flicking in the air above them. Hinata kisses his throat and the side of his neck and his jaw, stopping every so often to bump his head against Kageyama, rubbing his cheeks against his skin, and—and the soft humming that simmers out of him is like purring, Kageyama realizes, the low, pleased sound making him melt back against the pillows as Hinata kisses his ear.

"Kageyama," the incubus whispers again, and then another word, a new one: "Mine."

Kageyama turns to face him, pressing his forehead against Hinata's. "Hinata," he says. "Stay."

Hinata cocks his head.

Kageyama slides a hand into his fiery hair, curling his fingers into the warm strands. He touches his other hand to Hinata's chest. "Stay," he says again, before mirroring the gesture on his own skin, tapping the space above his own heart. "Stay with me."

And Hinata understands him. His eyes go wide, right before they squeeze closed tight, as he grins so wide his sharp little canines show.

His wings flutter open when he kisses Kageyama, diving on top of him, tail wiggling happily. A whole trembling chorus of floaty, whistling bell noises burst from him, tinkling through the air. Kageyama bites back a smile as he wraps his arms _tight_ around the demon boy, burying his face in Hinata's warm hair, determined not to let him, or any memories of him, slip away, ever again. And he knows he no longer has to worry that dreaming will leave him alone when the sun rises.

Kageyama Tobio isn't tired at all, now. In fact, he feels wide awake.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you endlessly to [RC](http://reallycorking.tumblr.com/) for her art, the actual FEAT OF GLORY she's achieved with this challenge, and for consistently being encouraging and so much fun to work with on everything I've written with/for her works. If you haven't, pleeease go check out the full size piece for #27 [here](http://reallyporning.tumblr.com/post/149938956789/27-rough-biting-scratch-esselley-wrote).
> 
> And my most dear [Ellessey](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellessey/pseuds/Ellessey), for listening patiently to our wild ideas and helping rein us in, beta-ing from start to finish (the battle between "its" and "it's" in this fucking thing almost killed us), and most importantly, for providing the working title to this fic: _Incubass_. May it live on in infamy. 
> 
> [I'm [@esselley](http://esselley.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, [@Esselle_hq](https://twitter.com/Esselle_hq) on Twitter]


End file.
